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The day's grown old; the fainting sun Has but a little way to run, And yet his steeds, with all his skill, Scarce lug the chariot down the hill. The shadows now so long do grow, That brambles like tall cedars show; Mole hills seem mountains, and the ant Appears a monstrous elephant. A very little, little flock Shades thrice the ground that it would stock; Whilst the small stripling following them Appears a mighty Polypheme. And now on benches all are sat, In the cool air to sit and chat, Till Phoebus, dipping in the West, Shall lead the world the way to rest.
Text Authorship:
- by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Pastoral", op. 31 no. 1 (1943), published 1944, first performed 1943 [ tenor, horn, and strings or piano ], from Serenade for tenor, horn and strings, no. 1, London : Boosey & Hawkes [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Pastoral", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Pastorale", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Pastorale", copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Hyrdedikt", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Pastoral"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 105
Dagen eldast; den svinnande sola Har berre ein kort veg att Og likevel trekkjer hesten, enn så dugande den er Knappast vogna nedover åsen. Skuggane veks no så pass langt At kjerret synest som høge sedertre Moldvarphaugar som høge fjell, og mauren Som ein mektig elefant. Berre ein bitte liten flokk Skuggelegg trefald det dei hadde beitt ned Medan jyplingen som føl dei Vert ein mektig Polypheme. Og no har alle sett seg ned, For ein prat i den friske lufta, Inntil Phoebus, som heng ned i vest Fører verda fram mot kvild.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to Norwegian (Nynorsk) copyright © 2004 by Are Frode Søholt, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Are Frode Søholt. We have no current contact information for the copyright-holder.
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Based on:
- a text in English by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687)
This text was added to the website: 2008-03-28
Line count: 16
Word count: 93